


The Last Titan

by Drakefire



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft, ゼロの使い魔 | Zero no Tsukaima | The Familiar of Zero
Genre: Action/Adventure, Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-09
Updated: 2017-11-10
Packaged: 2019-01-15 08:24:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12317343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drakefire/pseuds/Drakefire
Summary: Azeroth, a world of blood and war, has struggling since it's formation against impossible odds. Gods of madness, hordes of demons have tried to take this world, and each has failed in turn. Each passing day, the spirit nurtured in it's core grows stronger. But in it's darkest hour, when demon's invade once again, a spell is cast. The last Titan will be awaken.Basically, Louise summons a good half of Azeroth, inhabitants, world soul, and all.





	1. Chapter 1

I own neither World of Warcraft or Familiar of Zero. Both works belong to their respective owners and companies.

\--

The Dreadscar Rift. A small shattered Legion portal world, full of demons and fel-fire. It wasn’t much, but it made for a good strategic outpost. With hardly anything left of the plant it used to be, Dreadscar was easy to miss. Of course, that was until a certain gnome warlock accidentally summoned it’s Overlord, the powerful Pit Lord Jagganoth. The powerful demon slew the trifling gnome, and took his other summoners prisoner. What should have incurred was time well spent torturing the mortals that had the arrogance to try and summon him. Not a jailbreak that ended with his body held up by chains like some type of tropey above a pool of fel-lava, watching as his domain became taken by these mortal usurpers, and his forces bent to their will. 

The worse part. Having it happen over, and over, and over, and over again. Like it was some type of sick game! These mortals, with their stolen fel arts and stolen new base, had made themselves quite comfortable. As comfortable as a group of powerful warlocks could get when they had a Legion world with all of its knowledge and dark tomes. Which was quite a lot. The Council of the Black Harvest had grown quite strong, due to the new sources of knowledge, and the large number of new apprentices that had begun to seek tutelage under the senior members.

Being a warlock was certainly no easy task. One could easily end up dead summoning a demon, if the necessary precautions weren’t made. As such, it was the job of the Council to make sure warlock’s were properly prepared for the trails that faced them. But many did not wish to waste time training these new warlocks. That burden fell onto the back of one of their leaders. A blood elf warlock named Marlexana. 

“Ms. Mar? Ms. Mar?” the voice was a faint tickle, persistent in trying to yank her attention away from the tome in her hand. It was quite interesting. While she lacked any degree of safety to even attempt this degree of summoning, least of all without the bloodstone being sufficiently recharged, and the stone had been slumbering ever since the Eredar twins had been broken. 

“What is it?” the warlock closed the tome with a load crack, causing the errand boy of sorts to flinch. She was not pleased, at all. Ways to summon even stronger demon’s had always been an interest to her, and the tome had shown great promise in that regard. Binding those demons would be the hardest part. She resisted the urge to run her hand along her side. Jagganoth had made that mistake very clear, in the form of a massive gash on the left side of her body, made worse by the fel-fire wielded by pit-lords. Marlexana considered herself lucky that she lived through the blow. 

“Master Flamescowl wishes to speak with you,” the man quivered in fear, clearly intimidated by her. Good. But that left the part with Ritssyn up to question. The orc was of the no nonsense verity. He would not have interrupted her studies without a good cause. Which meant that whatever problem had arisen was important. Like an actual problem, not the problem were a student had summoned a large pack of imp’s and forgot to bind them. 

“He has asked for the other members of the council as well, alongside the other first,” he went on, ignoring the fact she was clearly thinking things over. He had called the whole council? Then this was truly important. It had not been since the Eredar Twins that the full might of the council had been needed, for, well, anything. 

“Very well,” a small fel orb formed around the tome, carrying it back to it’s proper place. “Come, Thal’kiel, we are leaving.” The floating skull let a grumble of annoyance, forced to float away from the book it had been reading. 

“What do you think it’ll be this time?” the demonic implement rasped. Even after what had to be thousands of years, Thal’kiel’s mind somehow remained intact. So much so, the artifact still had free will. A very rare trait for something that had been in the Legion’s hands for so long. And despite being just a head, Thal’kiel retained the talent of summoning that was ultimately responsible for his current state. 

“I have no idea, but whatever it is, it should be important,” I stated, finally entering the circle. Several large tomes of power floated in place, to large to be put on any shelf. 

“It is,” Ritssyn scowled, the mane of flames he had received as a parting gift from Ragnaros the Firelord was much brighter than normal. The orc wore red robes, with a staff of twisted metal on his back. Marlexana looked around her to the other members of the Council that had already arrived. There was Ritssyn, of the second circle, followed Rubeka Shadowbreaker, who was directly responsible for the banishment of their first leader, Kanrethad Ebonlocke. He had tried, and succeeded, in turning himself into a demon, and as such, had to be removed from the equation. Rubeka was there to make sure that banishment stuck. As such, the forsaken had made many trips to Outland to sure things didn’t change. Her own robes were a mixture of dark red and purple. Seeing as she was one of the Council’s master demon summoners, she didn’t need a weapon, seeing as she could call on swarms of imps and dreadstalker’s at any time. 

The fourth and fifth circle’s were held by Shinfel Blightsworn, a blood elf, and Zinnin Symthe. Shinfel was a blood elf, and no small sadist, either. And that was before Cho’gall’s corruption had burst from her veins, leaving her arms covered in dark brands. Her eyes, which would normally be light green, had been covered, and she made use of black robes. Nothing covered her marred flesh, however. Zinnin was a worgen, and a strange one, at that. The wolf-man was covered in light-grey fur, and was mute as a result of him being present when Deathwing, the Destroyer, was unmade. It didn’t help that he wore a flaming muzzle. His robes were some of the more colorful, a mixture of dark purples and blues, alongside black and what could best described as blood that has been left to dry. 

The final two members of the Council held the sixth and the newly created seventh circles, held by Kira Iresoul and Lulubelle Fizzlebang, respectively. Kira was a human, with long black hair and eyes, and quite tan as well. She used to be the apprentice to Ritssyn, but the two had fallen out, seeing as he had left her behind after they had infiltrated a group known as Argus Wake. It was her Bloodstone that allowed most of the Council to be rescued, and the twin’s will to be bent. Her purple and red robes left her midriff exposed. While some would question the practicality of it, the cloth armor worn by warlocks had never been that protective anyway, and many had plenty of defensive spells in case someone or something got to close. Then came Lulubelle. Sister of the infamous Wilfred Fizzlebang, and one of the prime examples of why you should always be careful when summoning demons. Because Eredar Princes were not doomguards. She was a gnome, and like all gnomes, was quite short. Her green hair was fairly normal, seeing as most female gnomes had colors like pink or blue. She was never without a pair of goggles on her face, and her black robes had been adorned with skulls. 

This was the Council of the Black Harvest, barring one final person.

“Where is the other half of the first circle?” it was Shinfel that spoke. Mar herself looked around. Of course, the second half of the first circle wasn’t present. He was never really one for being on time. Even if she herself had only found out about this meeting moments earlier, it still didn’t excuse his lateness. Especially for something this important. 

“Normally, I would say we wait,” Mar looked around at the other members as she took her place in the circle. “But seeing how sudden this meeting is, and how possible it that something of importance has happened, I think it would be best to start now.” 

“At this moment, I believe I have to agree. What has happened is both troubling and sudden,” Lulubelle spoke up. A small bolt of fel-fire struck the floor, causing a small device to come to life. It was a gift from the Illidari. A thank you, so to speak, for an unknown service. It was strange, but the gift had already proven itself useful, and nobody truly wished to return it. 

The device flashed to life, rising slightly off the floor, before admitting a dark green projection. The light took the shape of a sphere, lines quickly becoming recognizable landmasses. It was Azeroth. 

“There are two reasons that I called this meeting. The first is this,” Ritssyn finally spoke up, voice crackling like a fire, his finger pointing at a large swirling mass of energy, well beyond the planet. Eye’s narrowed as they all stared at it. It’s dark green hue revealed it’s nature. It was fel. 

“Is that a portal?” Rubeka asked, clearly unnerved by the prospect. Zinnin let out grunt, followed by a growl, which translated into some variation of yes, probably. 

“I think it is. At least, it’s someone trying to open one,” Kira spoke. Most of them nodded in agreement. “But where will it lead to, and who is trying to open it?” Marlexana frowned. She had a good guess at the answer to both of those questions, and neither of them were good. 

“The power necessary to create and maintain such a portal would be immense. Either several warlocks are working together to create this, or one very powerful warlock is doing this. In all honest, it’s likely Gul’dan, and if that is the case, the portal is likely one that would link Azeroth to Argus,” she stated, head sweeping back and forth. The other’s looked at each other. Even among warlocks, Gul’dan had a bad reputation. And he was extremely powerful. This one even more so, now that he had the trust of the legion. The portal in the Tomb of Sargeras was already enough of a problem. A second one leading to the homeworld of the demons? That every well could mean an end to Azeroth. 

“I am assuming the original plan of Horde and Alliance forces striking at the Nighthold is still in effect, correct?” Kira questioned, pausing slightly, as if waiting for Marlexana’s confirmation. The blood elf nodded. That was the plan anyway. But from the looks of it, time was quickly running out. A swift strike was needed, but they were not fully prepared. Not yet, anyway. A week or two more, and that was it. But they didn’t have that type time. She would send word to the Warchief once this meeting was done. Personally.

“Now, what is the second?” Marlexana asked. Please don’t let this be worse than a portal to Argus, please!

“It’s some type of spell. I’m not sure what it is exactly, but seems to have encompassed most of Azeroth,” the orc ground out. “However, I am unfamiliar with it’s composition and it’s purpose.” Each member of the Council looked at each other. Ritssyn was a master of destruction magic, alongside his former apprentice. Shinfel and Zinnin were masters of blights and curses. Lulubelle, Rubeka and Marlexana were all master summoners. Very few things were beyond the full might of the council. This seemed to be one of those things. Even it’s type was impossible to tell. One moment it was Light, then Elemental. It just kept changing. Either the spell had all the different types of magic, or it was something new altoghter. 

“I recognize this. If my memory serves, this is what it looks like to be on the receiving end of a summoning spell,” it was Thal’kiel that spoke. The skull had been observing the spellwork for quite some time. What spell it was couldn’t be concerned, whoever was casting it had power. Plenty of power. 

“That’s impossible!” many of the Council members shouted, including the half of the first circle. What being would be able to summon nearly half a planet? Muttering took hold. The implication of this was resounding. Of course, something would have to be done about that. It may have been hypocritical, but none of them wanted to be on a receiving end of a summoning spell. Shinfel had already done that, even though it was the only way rescue her without going through an army of demons. 

“I’m going to assume there isn’t going to be much we can do to stop this from happening,” Lulubelle said, with Mar and Jubeka inclined to agree. The only way to stop a summoning from taking place was to interrupt the summoner’s concentration. Seeing as this summoner was bringing most of a planet, alongside all it’s people, it was a safe bet that they were out of reach. In normal cases, it wasn’t exacting the summoning you had to worry about. It was the binding. Mar’s eyes suddenly widened. The binding!

“Netherlord?” Kira raised an eyebrow, reading the shocked look that played out over the blood elf’s face. The council looked at their only present leader. 

“Whatever this thing is, are they trying to summon the World Soul?” the question caused the entire room to still. Summoning typically followed by binding. But binding a Titan spirit? That was something nobody could account for. For all anyone knew, it could spell disaster. Besides Sargeras, none of the Titan’s remained alive, as far as most knew. Meaning Azeroth was likely the last of her kind, though the several disasters that have plagued the world likely have set back the being’s growth. Seeing as Titan’s were beings the size of planets, it was likely a good thing she was still asleep. And nobody had been around to record what exactly happens when a Titan wakes up, either. 

“I am not able to tell if that is the case, but it does seem like a logical conclusion,” the floating skull said, keeping mostly still as it observed the spell. More than a few members didn’t exactly trust the artifact, but they all knew that it had more experience in it’s field than all of them combined. The news was alarming, and at the moment, there was very little the Council could do about this. Alone, at least. 

Muttering and whispering once again took hold. The mear thought was enough to cause concern, but now they were in a position that painted a clearly negative picture about what was to come. And seeing how there was nothing they could do about it didn’t help. The only real action they could take was try to lesser the impact, but they simply lacked the tools for such a venture.

“Well, I think our next action is simple,” a new voice rose up above the noise. Mar’s eyes narrowed.

“You’re late,” she snapped, clearly annoyed over the matter. This was nothing new for the other half of the first circle. Leonox had never been one for this type of thing. The only reason, as far as some were concerned, he was made the second half of the first circle was the fact he had the strongest bound with the Deadwind Harvester, a powerful soul eating scythe, used as a prison for several powerful and rebellious demons. 

“Not really. I just let my peers that have more expertise in their respective fields give their input, seeing as I know very little besides from curses and hexes,” he grinned. It was quite true that he had little experience with the destruction and demonology schools. Leonox, completely opposite to his horde counterpart, specialized heavily.

“Besides the High King and the Warchief, who else shall we inform?” he asked, finally taking his place within the circle. 

“The Kirin Tor and the Tirisgarde, at the least!” Jubeka shouted, with Zinnin letting out a whine of agreement. Both choices were smart. The Kirin Tor had the Council of Six, which made up the ruling body of Dalaran. Khadgar was among their number, and he would be informed of the matter, even if he wasn’t. The mage was far too respected to not be given that type of information. What remained was no less powerful or noteworthy, seeing as a blue dragon, the former Aspect of Magic, Kalec, was among their number. The Tirisgarde was an order much like the Council of the Black Harvest. One of the twelve class orders, in fact. 

Plus the knowledge the Tirisgarde had obtained likely rivaled, if not surpassed that of the Kirin Tor. In fact, many members of the Council as a whole had friends within the Tirisgarde, making the it hard for the two groups to keep meaningful secrets from the other. Mar’s younger brother used to be a high ranking member, before he stepped down to lead Silvermoon, after the mysterious disappearance of Regent Lord Lor’themar. 

“The Earthen Ring should also be informed, if they aren’t already aware of the situation,” Ritssyn offered. That was logical. Shaman’s didn’t have much love for Warlocks as a whole. They were all on the same side, and their knowledge of Azeroth as a whole would be useful when the spell finally took effect. Nobody wanted, or needed, a second Cataclysm.

“Are we in agreement?” the Council nodded. This was not the time for divisions. This was a time for action. 

“I, Marlexana of the half of the first circle, propose that inform the Warchief and High King, alongside Kirin Tor, Earthen Ring, and the Tirisgarde of the Legion portal, but also the summoning spell that is targeting Azeroth, and likely, it’s Titan spirit,” the blood elf rose. “Does the other half of the circle support this motion?”

“I, Leonox of the half of the first circle, agree with Marlexana’s plan to inform the High King and Warchief, alongside Kirin Tor, Earthen Ring, and the Tirisgarde of the Legion portal, but also the summoning spell that is targeting Azeroth, and likely, it’s Titan spirit,” the human nodded. 

“Leonox and I will leave to inform the leaders of the Horde and Alliance at once. Ritssyn, I know you still have some contacts with some shamans from when you fought Ragnaros, see if you can send word that way. Everyone else can divide up at your leisure. Just make sure it gets done. And Thal’kiel?” the blood elf paused. 

“Yes?” the skull hummed, seeming quite content at the fact it was being left behind. 

“When that spell looks like it’s about to go through, I want a warning. To anyone and everyone you can contact. The more time we have, the better off we will be,” she snapped. The stress of everything was reaching a fever pitch. Azeroth was her home, and it had suffered enough. 

“I will do what I can, but I will not make promises I won’t be able to keep,” Thal’kiel’s voice was unnervingly soft. His partner wasn’t the only one concerned. If it wasn’t for the fact the proof lay before him, he would be calling this impossible. No being should or could have type of power to cast such a spell. Even if it failed, which was likely, just the strength and magical talent to perform such a feat. The only reason Thal’kiel wasn’t as worried as he could have been, was the fact this was likely not Sargeras. Yes, it was possible that the Dark Titan had that level of power, he just simply never displayed such. He could, but never had. Seeing as not only the true master of the Legion had been missing for centuries, and the fact that the Legion was trying to open another portal to Azeroth, made it clear he was not the culprit. 

Besides, it was well know that Sargeras truly didn’t need his own creation to complete his goals. It just made it easier. The power of the Dark Titan surpassed that of the full strength of the Legion. 

\--

Marlexana stepped out of the sewers into the streets of Dalaran. It was close to midday, if the sun was any indication. Hopefully, the Warchief had already risen from his slumber. If not, when she was just going to have to do it herself. The floating city was quite busy at the moment, the cities inn’s filled with people getting food and drink, shops selling potions, armor, alongside other items and goods. The city was still a small, merely a fraction of what the old city of mages had been, making it easy to make it to the Horde’s district. Both the Horde and Alliance had been given small areas of the city, mostly to make sure both had a place free of tension from the other faction. Each came with it’s own inn, guards, and portals, allowing for easy access to many of the Horde’s capital cities. 

But there was one city she was looking for. Orgrimmar. If the Horde had a capital, it would be that mighty fortress. It took the combined might of the Alliance and most of the Horde to bring down the city gates. Then again, for that battle, things had been different. Garrosh, the Warchief back then, had powerful creations and foul magic, even by the standards of warlocks, at his back. It was how he acquired it that that was the final nail in the coffin. Destroying one of the most beautiful places on Azeroth, the Vale of Eternal Blossoms, in a single dark blast using the heart of an Old God. 

The blood elf arrived in front of the swirling red portal, snapping her out of her thoughts. Even from here, the heat of the desert washed across her face. Marlexana stepped through, merely a second before landing in Orgrimmar. The coolness of the early morning, combined with the fact the portal lead to an area known as the Cleft of Shadows, sent a chill down her spine. The cleft itself was part of a system of caverns beneath the city, and it seemed to have magical properties of it’s own. In short, it’s name was accurate. Light was dampened, whether it was mundane or magical did not matter. One’s who frequented the area adapted to the gloom, one way or another. 

There was little time to reminisce, however. The city was slowly beginning to wake. Citizens were rising, preparing to start another day. Weapon’s needed forging, armor crafted. Goods had to be sold. The city may not have been the largest, but it was still alive. Building into the walls of a valley left Orgrimmar with little space to grow, but it was nearly impossible to attack. 

The blood elf made her way to her destination, the imposing fortress of Grommash Hold, within the Valley of Strength. The keep was named in honor of Garrosh’s late father, Grom. Made of stone and iron, it was the seat of the Warchief. Thankfully, the doors were open. Which meant one thing. The Warchief was awake.

Marlexana entered the keep. Most would be nervous, but seeing how she knew the Warchief before the was promoted, a fact that calmed her nerves. 

“What is your business?” two guards snap, crossing their weapons in front of the gate. She glared at the two, annoyed, but relenting, knowing exactly what their duty was.

“I am Marlexana, the holder of the Horde’s half of the circle of the Council of the Black Harvest. I have come bearing important news. For the Warchief's ears only,” the last part was in such a tone the one of the guards flinched visibly. 

“Sent her in,” a voice came from within the hold. It was an order. 

“Yes Warchief!” their fists slammed into their chests, sending a dull thud that echoed through the iron citadel. She walked through the final door. The chamber was dark, poorly lit by a ring of torches. Overlooking over maps and battle plans, the Warchief stood. Like Mar, he was a wielder of the three artifacts for his class, the warrior. His green skin was covered by red and black armor, his personal favorite, even if it was unknown whether it was because he liked them before hand, or simply because they were the colors of the Horde. Even by Orc standard, he was a mass of hulking muscles, muscles devolved from wielding massive weapons and shielding his allies. A powerful and great warrior. But even a better friend.

“It has been far too long, Mar,” he spoke, his voice like a rumble. “But something tells my you didn’t come all this way simple to catch up on old times.” Despite being an Orc, a race that too many would consider dumb, the Warchief was smart. He had read her concern like a book. The elf had a reputation for being serous, something the orc knew wasn’t entirely true. But when push came to shove, she would not waste time on trivial matters.

“As much as it would be a pleasure, Warchief, there is no time for such things,” the elf spoke, bowing in respect. She grit her teeth. This was no time for ceremony and tradition. 

“Two things are about to happen, Matuk,” she said, causing the orc to raise an eyebrow. Rarely did the girl use his name, unless it was for something important. Based on the tone of her voice, and how her eyes seemed to flicker with light green energy, then this was no small matter. “Someone is trying to open a portal to Azeroth. Based on it’s size, and the magic used to make it, the Council of the Black Harvest believes it is Gul’dan.” The orc’s eyes narrowed at the mention of Gul’dan. That orc was responsible, in some from or another, for most of the disasters that plagued Azeroth for the last couple months. He was also responsible for the deaths of former High King Varian Wrynn, and former Warchief Vol’jin. 

Both leader’s deaths had sent shockwaves through the two factions, with people on both sides calling for vengeance. Normally, this wouldn’t be an issue. Soldier’s on the battlefield out for retribution were powerful assets, their rage fuelling their motivation. The Horde and Alliance weren’t out for the Legions blood thought. They were after each other. What could be the end of the world was upon them, and yet member’s of the Horde and Alliance wanted the heads of the other. It was nothing short of a miracle that the talks with their current High King resulted in peace. Then again, the kid was inexperienced, not an idiot. Fighting the Legion required the full attention of both, and his counterpart knew this well. It hadn’t stopped some on either side from trying to revive the bloodbath in the making. Horde members that were caught defying the Warchief in such a manor were imprisoned, and should be lucky that they hadn’t been executed for treason. 

The main reason he hadn’t was some of them were counted among the Champions of Azeroth, a group of individuals that were resistant to death. No, resistant didn’t do the fact justice. Practically immune did. Yes, they could die, but their bodies would come back, without sign of injury. They could be crushed, incinerated, dropped into acid, anything, and they would always come back. He and Mar also belonged in this group. A certain event had grown this number from hundreds to more than tens of thousands. Mar and him also belonged that group. 

But even if they did come back from death, most avoided the experience. Dying was painful. It did make it a very good teacher, even with the massive influx of people with this curse, most, thankfully, didn’t have it. Still, it was good, just to be safe, to keep criminals locked up. It would be bad if they executed a murder, to only find them running around outside the city. Nope, best to keep them where they could be easily watched. 

“The second is that there is a spell of known origin,” the blood elf’s voice snapped him from his thoughts. “Thal’kiel believes it to be a summoning spell.” The orc’s eyes widened. He was very aware of the ancient Eredar skull, and it’s reputation. While he didn’t entirely trust Thal’kiel, Matuk could hardly ignore that it had more experience in that field than nearly anyone. Even if he was just a head. His eyes narrowed more has Marlexana paused. 

“The spell! It’s!” the world went dark, and the earth shook.

\--

Leonox make his way through the streets of Stormwind. Dusk was beginning to settle on the city, the fading light of the sun reflecting from the white stones that made up most of the buildings within the city. It was beautiful, and a shame he didn’t come unless he was on business. 

Business. Yes, he needed to make his way to the High King at once. Not look around at architecture. He slowly made his way through the districts, ignoring, or, at least, trying to, the stares at him. Warlocks weren’t exactly trusted. It could be worse though. The Ebon Blade was close to bringing both Alliance and Horde forces down on them. Seeing as they had resurrected two important people of both factions, it was a natural response.

Still, the scythe on his back drew attention. The easiest and simplest way to describe it was that it was similar to Frostmourne. Both weapon’s devoured the souls of it’s victims, and if their wielder was to die, the owner’s soul would join the chorus. One difference was the fact that Ulthalesh was more than just a soul eating scythe. It was a prison for demons that had once defied Sargarses’s rule. That in of itself was a problem. The name of the weapon came from the strongest demon trapped within. And it held a grudge. It was weak, for now. Ulthalesh hadn’t had much of meal for thousands of years, but now, it was used to bring down demons and other powerful creatures. Only thing keeping it from returning to full power was time. Time that was going to run out. 

Hopefully, he would be able to ditch the weapon in favor of something more simple. It would be much better off locked away within the vault he taken it from. But that was not going to happen until the Legion had been beaten back, or Azeroth was burned. Then, the scythe would once again be their problem. 

Leonox stepped up to the palace. Marble gleamed in the remaining rays of sunlight. A statue of the former High King stood in front of the castle, sword in hand. He remembered Varian’s final stand against the Legion at the Broken Shore. He remembered the cries for blood. For a war that didn’t need to be fought. Given hindsight, he knew that it wasn’t the Horde’s retreat that damned them. It was what saved them. If the Horde hadn’t pulled out, then most of both factions armies and leadership would be dead. Azeroth would already be burned, destroyed, or simply converted into another Legion world. 

But that didn’t happen. The hallway was guarded, heavily. Soldier’s in full steel armor swarmed the palace, the only place skin was visible was the visor. Blue shoulder pads kept in place blue tabards, each one with a golden lion upon it. Each shield also had been engraved with the symbol of the Alliance. The demon’s recent attempt on the current High King’s life had the guard on edge, even if the attempt was stopped by none other than Anduin Wrynn, High King of the Alliance. Anduin had come far, his defeat of a dreadlord assassin testament to that fact. His negotiation of peace with the Horde when many screamed for blood was even more commendable. Anduin had changed his father, that much had become clear over the years. But until Anduin had taken the throne, it was unclear just how much his father changed him as well. The young man still cared for peace, but if force came to shove, he seemed to be willing to fight for it. A far cry from what Anduin used to be. 

“High King Anduin Wrynn. I come baring,” was far as he got, as the world went white, and the earth screamed.


	2. Chapter 2

Louise shifted on her feet nervously. Today was the day when all second year students would summon their familiar, the Springtime Familiar Summoning. It was a test that countless have taken, and nearly just as many have passed. Any normal mage could perform this task without issue. The problem? Louise was far from a normal mage. Every spell she cast ended up as nothing more than a blast of energy. As such, she was regarded by most of her peers as a Zero.

Despite the confidence she wore, it was a flimsy mask, at best. The girl was scared. She had never succeed with any spell. Each and every time. There was no reason to believe today would be any different. But failure was not an option. If she failed this time, she would be expelled. 

So she waited nervously. Louise was going last, if only to allow the students who didn’t want to watch her failure to depart. As such, the summoning began. Kirche von Zerbst, a fire mage from Germania, hailing from a family that rivaled Louise’s own, summoned a salamander. The red beast’s tail ended in a burning tip, making it a perfect match for the fire mage, much to Louise’s jealousy. Of course, the redhead would rub it in her face later. It was part of her nature, so far as Louise was concerned. Tabitha, one of Kirche’s friends, summoned a massive blue dragon. The blue haired girl leaned against it, already reading another book, seeming to take no pride in summoning such a great familiar.

The summoning continued. So many familiars. Some mundane, like cats and rabbits. Some magical, like the sole bugbear, or the bear sized mole summoned by Guchie. 

“Have we gone through everybody?” the voice came from the only teacher there, Colbert. The aging fire mage had taken up the profession quite some time ago. He was good at his job, carrying and intelligent, treating his student’s like the young adult’s they were. Louise tried to make herself look smaller, to avoid notice. Of course it didn’t work.

“No, not yet.” Kirche spoke, looking quite smug with herself, as Louise glared. “Miss Valerie is left.” Louise let the unlady like growl die in her throat. Calm. Control. Well, there was no escaping this. She steeled herself, stepping forward into the ring of students. Muttering rose up, but she payed it no heed. 

"My servant that existed somewhere in this vast universe, my divine, beautiful, wise, powerful servant, heed my call, I wish from very bottom of my heart and add to my guidance and appear!" Louise chanted. The circle began to glow, causing everyone to step back, expecting another explosion. The glow suddenly dimmed. 

“That’s it?” someone in the crowd spoke up. No, she couldn’t fail. Not now. She prepared to cast again, but the circle lit up again. It flashed six times, each one causing recoil from the crowd, before flickering faintly, the light nearly dying out. It then began to glow. Each second the light became stronger and brighter, before it was shining like a second sun. All the while, something grew in the back of Louise’s mind. An itch that she couldn’t quite scratch. A tickle that couldn’t be placed. The glow finally died.

Nothing. Nothing was there! This shouldn’t be possible! There wasn’t even an… her thoughts went no further as the earth screamed and buckled. All the while, the feeling in the back of her mind grew. It wasn’t an itch. It wasn’t a tickle. It was a scream of pure agony. As the earth raged, Louise screamed.

\--

Twisting. Searching. Seeking. It needed to find something. Something suitable. Something pure. Something powerful. 

The first, powerful. Mighty. A pinnacle of strength. Able to split planets in a single blow of his massive broken sword. But he was dark. Corrupted. Unnatural flame had darkened it’s soul, and chard it’s body. It wished for the universe to burn. It was impure. Something else. Something pure. Something powerful.

It floated through the Great Dark. Twisting. Searching. Seeking. There were more of the beings like the first. Pure. But dead. It checked each body, each limp form the size of planet. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. But there was something left. A trail. There was something left of these beings. It needed to find them. The beings that could hold even the faintest flicker of these being’s power would make for a powerful familiar. 

Twisting, searching, seeking. It was getting closer, the trail ended, no, the holders of the power would not do. What they inhabited would. Deep inside, something slumbered. It’s dreams were constant, like the wind. Dreams of light caressing her skin. Of the mortals that walked on her skin being happy. 

Yes, she was young, weak, even. Yet to have full formed, and if the scars that marred her surface had anything to say, maybe she never will. But she had potential. If the mortals that inhabited her surface were any indication. Flawed, imperfect beings, as mortals tended to be. But they had spirit. Strength. Will. Determination. 

But their world had corruption. Darkness. Demon’s poured from a rift and reality, old horror’s bidding their time. Could it be cut? No. The old evil’s were ingrained too deep. To tear them out, to remove them, would do damage that may kill the slumbering being. To keep it alive, it would need to bring nearly half the planet. Machines kept healing energy pumped into the world soul. Too much to pick and choose. The corruption would have to come with, and ideally would be dealt with in times. 

The demons would be far easier. The rift was beyond its power to close. But the others. The portals, the teleporters, the gates. Cords that could be easily cut. Links that could be snipped. It could bring half of this world.

Four continents, hundreds of islands, two moons, portal systems to other worlds. It was possible. It would be done. Things would need to be cut out to make room for the new addition. It would be a tight fit. But it could and would be done. 

Azeroth shuttered and flashed, vanishing from sight as a dark green portal opened in the heavens. 

\--

Colbert was doing his best to calm his students. Most of them were in a panic. Earthquakes weren’t exactly common in Tristain, and due to the nation’s many mages, damage and shaking could be minimized in some cases. But this just seemed to happen. A skilled earth mage could predict with some degree of accuracy when one would accrue. This time, there was no such warning. 

Then there was Louise. If it wasn’t for experience, he wouldn’t have been able to tell what she was screaming about. Some did it because of fear, or some would assume, frustration at another failure. The fact was, it was neither. Not frustration or fear. This was the scream of someone in pain. And he couldn’t tell the cause. She didn’t appear hurt. No cuts, no blood, no anything. 

She was on her knees, continuing to scream. Something needed to be done, before she caused herself to pass out from lack of oxygen. 

“Louise, what is wrong?” the teacher was surprised at the first to attempt to come to Louise’s add. The rivalry between the pinkette and Kirche was well know. As such, it was refreshing to see redhead put aside her difference with the girl. Though the timing was certainly strange. There must have been more to this rivalry than he originally believed. 

“There’s a voice in my head,” Louise managed to gasp out, slowly curling into a fetal position. “She’s in pain, screaming. Why do you care?” the pinkette feel back into her mindless screaming. A voice in her head? A she? Was it her familiar? If so, then where was it? She hadn’t even bound it yet. Why would there be an empathic link? Was it invisible? Could it be the cause of the shaking? 

The quake was beginning to die. As had Louise’s own screaming. Thought the later seemed to be born from exhaustion, more than anything else. 

“Kirche, take Louise down the nurse at once. I’ll deal with, this,” there was no other word to describe it but disaster. Earth uprooted, more than few buildings had suffered light damage. What was built on the school’s grounds were durable and hardy, build to withstand all manner of natural or magical occurrences. If they were this damaged, places that weren’t so well built could have been outright destroyed. 

\--

“Summoning?” Tabitha asked as Kirche navigated through the crowded hallway. The earthquake had caused the normally very focused servants into a state of confusion. Of course, such an event confused everyone. Without warning and mere seconds after Valieri finished casting? The idea of summoning an earthquake was out. It was simply absurd concept. An earth based summon was also out. The size that would be required to cause such a quake would be impossible. Added to the fact it didn’t reveal itself, and Louise’s screaming didn’t make sense. 

Delirious from pain? But what type of summon caused pain? Not even willpower exhaustion caused something like that. And why would Louise suffer from that? As far as anyone could see, she summoned nothing! Something invisible? A Changeling, perhaps? No those could change their shape, but make themselves unseeable. 

More importantly, Louise had said something about a she. This meant, despite the fact she didn’t bind anything, there was still an empathic link. Was it brought on by the summon itself? If so, where was it? It just didn’t make sense! 

Kirche placed the small girl down on the bed. Louise was many things. Stubborn, proud, easy to anger. Which made her a joy to keep around. Even if Kirche was never going to admit it. The two were rivals, after all. 

But came the problem of proving that Louise actually did summon something. There was no other explanation for what happened. The earthquake. The passing out. Was it possible that the cause was willpower exhaustion?

If that was truly the case, what had Louise summoned? 

\--

Louise slumbered. Within her mind, she was not herself. She was a slumbering being. A planet. Elements danced across her surface. Playing, fighting. In innocence and goodwill, earth, wind, water, and fire were both comfort and familiarity to her. It was calm. 

Until darkness came. Shadow dug it’s tendrils deep into her form, turning tranquil dreams into maddening nightmares. The elements rose as one, only to be brought to heel. Darkness reigned.

But out of the dark, something came for her. It was like her, but awake. It brought help. And soon another war waged across her surface. Beings of stone and metal fought against the darkness, sealing it away. She suffered from the fighting, one of the largest concentrations of blight ripped from her body, leaving a deep scar. 

But wounds were mended. Healing energy was sent into her sleeping form, while the bleeding gash was covered by a well of arcane power. The beings like her left, leaving their creations behind to watch over. They were soon joined by others. Dragon’s, powerful and mighty, also became her protectors. Life, nature, magic, earth and time. These were the blessings they were given. 

Time began to move faster. One of her keepers left, and an aspect and keeper slowly falling to her old enemies. Minions of her foe clashed with an empire of trolls. The insects scattered, cementing the empire for a time. 

The Curse of Flesh took root. Vrykul began to change, some becoming smaller and weaker. Mankind was born from massive giants. Earthen’s stone skin became flesh and blood. Mechagnomes mechanical parts turned of organs. Mogu, creators of life, turned on each other, and with the rise of the Thunder King, their former master, one of her keepers. 

Elves began to appear around the magical font that helped her. Their skin was dark purple, with hair like grass, or more rarely, like stars. She nearly felt a panic, something far off and distant. They began to use magic, their small civilization growing and flourishing at a rapid rate. 

To the south, the mogu were overthrown by the races they had enslaved. Things were moving faster.

The highborn, the ruling class of the Night Elves, found something. An army. Lead by a being like her, like the ones that helped her, but not like them. Hostile. Anger. Willing to kill her. Many rose against the invaders, ultimately winning the day. The well, the one used to stop her bleeding was destroyed. More than destroyed. Annalated. The work that her peers had created was almost gone. 

But life goes on. Soon, what remained of the highborne were exiled, taking a new name, and a new home across the new sea. 

Humans began to group together, forming new nations. One such helped the high elves in war, earning a reward. Magic. As it’s practice grew, so did the burning foe’s interest. A group was formed, to safeguard her.

Things began moving faster.

One of the old foes make their move, with a legion, one of the groups of scattered insects, making their return. Many lives were lost, but the enemy was sealed away. 

The burning foe returned. Weaker than he was before, one stood against him, and slayed his avatar. Merely a fragment of his power. He hide part of his power within the guardian that saved her, bidding his time.

Things were moving faster.

Her guardian had a son. One that she gave all her magic to. And all of her corruption. The boy grew into a man, the dark spirit festering within. At his behest, the man created a portal. Orcs came through, corrupted with the blood of demons. 

Things were moving faster.

War came. Victories, and loses. The first Horde shattered. Portal closed. A second one was formed. One of honor. But as light came, so did dark. Undead ran rampant, destroying the kingdom of a willing prince, and that of the High Elves. 

Things were moving faster.

The undead, like the orcs, were merely pawns in the plot of another. The demons returned, without their master. They failed, at the cost of the night elves immortality. The undead broke free from their demonic masters.

Things were moving faster.

War. Conflict. Invasion. War. Conflict. Undead Scourge. War. Conflict. The Hour of Twilight. War. Conflict. Near resurrection of an ancient foe. War. Conflict. Iron Horde. War. Conflict. Legion. 

Louise was locked in a strange dream.

Shame that she wouldn’t remember it when she woke.

\--

This was a bit shorter than I would have liked, but this is the best stopping point as far as I can tell.

**Author's Note:**

> I really want feedback for this story. I also this story on both Spacebattles and Fanfiction.net, which will be linked bellow. Spoiler warning, though, they are much further along. 
> 
> https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12316204/1/The-Last-Titan
> 
> https://forums.spacebattles.com/threads/the-last-titan-warcraft-x-familiar-of-zero.516814/#post-38369017


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